Crème Brulée
by tempsthe
Summary: There are plenty of odd people that filter in and out of the Master of Death's bakery, but none quite as odd as the tiny, blonde, Japanese man-child who keeps saying that he loves him. Harry/Hunny
1. Chapter 1

**There are plenty of odd people that filter in and out of the Master of Death's bakery, but none quite as odd as the tiny, blonde, Japanese man-child who keeps saying that he loves him. Harry/Hani**

 **Crème Brulée**

.

Oh, angel sent from up above  
You know you make my world light up

.

The thing about Harry (just 'Harry', he says, as he introduces himself and it's simple, so very simple even if there isn't anything simple about the dark obsidian hair that curls at the base of his neck or the deep, vibrant green of his eyes) it's that he's beautiful –

That's the only word that can be used to describe him as Mitsukuni Haninozuka lays wide brown eyes on him.

He's beautiful in the shattered sort of way, like a broken porcelain tea cup that someone drops in haste and even as shards splatter across the floor, it still remains beautiful.

Mitsukuni is not a romantic, at least not as much as Tamaki, but, as the dark-haired boy turns to smile at him and greets him as a customer, the only thought that filters in his brain is 'this is love'.

"Hello." His voice is soft, wise, haunted. There is an apron tied around his waist, flour in his hair, dried sugar on his cheek (and Hani feels that hunger pool in his stomach, a flutter in his heart, the same type he gets when thinking about cake).

The blonde blinks, his mouth turned up in surprise, the expression probably making him look even younger than he actually is.

"Would you like some cake?" When there's no answer, the other teen sends a curious look his way. "I just took the chocolate cake out of the oven, so it's still warm."

It snaps him out of his trance and the former host finally nods his head, even if the only word he picked up is cake (this is a bakery and Hani distinctly remembers pushing open the door of the shop, but after that, it's all a blur).

There's another smile his way and Hani stands, transfixed by the counter, as the dark-haired boy walks and reaches for a three-layered chocolate cake, every step light and every movement seemingly calculated.

It's the best cake Hani has ever eaten, which is odd since he can't quite taste it.

He eats it on a table not too far away from the cash register, watches as customers filter in and out, some in pairs, some alone, some rushed and others just lingering for the saccharine smell in the air and the strong bitterness of the coffee.

Every time, the boy smiles that same smile, offers cakes and pastries and coffee to anyone who has the courage to ask, as if pretending that there isn't a tiny blonde Japanese man-child piercing holes in his back even if most people would feel uncomfortable being stared at for so long.

"Um…" Time passes by and when Hani blinks, he notices that the shop is empty and that the dark-haired boy is standing near him. "I'm closing soon and it's late." It is – late. And the blonde thinks that five hours passed by far too quickly, that it's unfair .

"Oh." He doesn't mean to look this crestfallen (truth be told, he has to leave soon, because there's people waiting for him and his cellphone beeps in his pocket, text messages from Takashi no doubt asking him where he is and his childhood friend means well, he really does).

"I open at eight o'clock tomorrow." The blonde feels the smile on his face before he can even think about producing one. He nods furiously and the green-eyed youth smiles right back, just a hint of amusement on his face.

"Okay." He beams at the other boy and bounces off the chair, waving goodbye as he opens the door and sends another smile towards the teen who watches him go with laughter in his eyes.

At seven fifty-seven the next day, Mitsukuni stands in front of the shop with his hand in his pocket and stares with impatience through the glass windows, tapping his foot on the ground eagerly.

When he hears the key in the door and catches a glimpse of the teen, Huni can't help the way his heart leaps and thumps in his rib cage. The teen – he'll introduce himself later that day as Harry, just Harry, with a British accent that makes every word sound whimsical – let's out a chuckle when he sees the blonde.

"You must have really liked that cake." And Hani smiles (it's shaky because he's not used to that feeling, to feel a hunger for something else than cake this strongly).

.

.

For every answer Harry gives him, there's twice as many questions that come from them.

"Harry, what's your favorite?" It's been three weeks and Hani feels absolutely no shame in admitting that he's spent seven consecutive days in the boy's shop (when asked by Takashi, Mitsukuni brushes it off with a wave of his hand and mutters about cake under his breath – it's not that he doesn't want to share his newfound love of the baker, no, he doesn't want to share the _baker_ ).

"Uh…" Harry trails off, pushing round glasses up on his nose. "Probably the crème brulée. I remember when I was younger and I watched my aunt caramelise the sugar with a kitchen blow torch. I was never allowed any, of course, but I used to think that a dessert this complex was bound to be delicious."

He smiles then, dusting off flour from his apron and Hani wants to ask many more questions – why do you never talk about your parents and why weren't you allowed any and what's so complex about a dessert?

The blonde host keeps quiet and watches as the teen busies himself with cutting a piece of chocolate cake and slides it on a plate, carefully and gracefully, as if the cake is a newborn infant that needs to be treated with the uttermost care.

"But chocolate cake comes in a close second." Hani nods his head sagely, because if anyone understands how seriously cake should be taken, it's certainly him.

The boy reaches the tiny table the former host has claimed as his and hands him the plate of chocolate cake, the smell making the blonde's stomach rumble with glee. Harry chuckles and –

Hani thinks if he can hear that sound every day, he'll be happy for the rest of his life.

"Why are your cakes so delicious? Do you have a special ingredient?" Mitsukuni asks three bites in, chocolate at the corner of his mouth. He wonders, really, because the blonde has had many cakes in his life and none quite compare to Harry's.

There's a sparkle in the boy's eyes and his lips twitch up in a mischievous smile.

"It's all about the magic." He answers, as if the most obvious thing in the world and for Hani, who expected something along the lines of 'a little bit of love', his mouth curls in surprise.

"Magic?" He asks, incredulous.

"Yep. There's a sprinkle of magic in every single thing I bake." And he says it like it's the truth, so Hani can only stare with an eyebrow raised as the teen pats his hands on his apron and offers a secretive smile. "But that's a secret; you and I are the only ones that know."

That same warmth pools inside Mitsukuni's stomach, the thought of sharing a secret with Harry makes him almost fall off his chair with mirth. If Harry believes that there is magic in his cakes, then he'll believe it too. It would certainly explain why each mouthful makes his eyes roll back in his sockets, why everyone in the shop seems happy and joyful.

Hani thinks it's all part of what makes the baker eccentrically beautiful and doesn't realize just how wrong he is to just brush it off –

Until three days later, when he tugs at Harry's sleeve and asks him if he can see the kitchen (he wants a reason to stay late and while he doesn't want to impose, he thinks he can help Harry in some way or another while he closes the shop, so he lingers and tugs at Harry's sleeve and asks him if he can see the kitchen and maybe meet another employee because there's only ever Harry in the store) …

Green eyes blink at him, allowing him to hold onto the material of his black sweater, and he bites his lower lip (Hani has to tear his eyes off because he'll stare forever if he's allowed) before finally nodding his head.

"Okay." He says; soft, wise, _haunted_.

Double doors near the counter swing open, but there's no one there and Hani blinks as Harry nods his head – as if the convince himself that this is the right choice and it's just a kitchen so really, Hani doesn't know why the teen seems so hesitant –

At least, he doesn't understand, until his eyes land on the kitchen tools, floating about the room, cleaning themselves and then arranging themselves in their appropriate space.

"Oh…" This could be a scene from that Disney movie, the one where there's a beauty and a beast. Utensils and bowls and tables move around like they have a purpose, like human beings would, only there isn't a human being in sight –

Except for Harry, who tugs at the collar of his shirt and watches him with misty eyes.

"Oh." Mitsukuni says once again, this time softer as he watches with a morbid sort of curiosity a kitchen knife wash itself in the sink, dry itself on a rag and then fly away back in its holder.

For a second, there are no words, none, that could possibly explain what he feels (it's overwhelming and breathtaking and adds yet another layer to the mysterious boy with the dark hair and the vibrant green eyes and Mitsukuni, Mitsukuni is usually so strong, but right now his knees are weak, so weak).

But the second after, he turns wide brown eyes towards Harry and says;

"I love you." And the worst, is that he means it more than anything else he's ever said in the world and Harry blinks, clearly taken aback, which causes every kitchen tool to somehow jolt to a stop and hover in the air.

Dark eyelashes flutter, cheeks stained with a very faint pink blush (and just like that, the former host falls in love all over again).

* * *

 **a/n: So, yeah, I did it _again_. I was perusing the Ouran/Potter crossovers and I just thought to myself, hum, what's missing is Harry being the Master of Death and a baker seducing Honey-Sempai and this happened. I guess it could be read as a one shot or maybe I could add onto it, I'm not sure yet, but if you'd like more let me know. The time frame is Post Mori and Huni graduating, so yeah. I hoped you enjoyed, thanks for reading and drop a review ~**


	2. Chapter 2

**It's only a matter of time and Death has an odd sense of humour.**

 **Crème Brulée**

.

Life is a drink and love's a drug  
Oh now I think I must be miles up

.

Hani learns that; the Master of Death is a pretty self-explanatory title.

And Death is, for all intents and purposes, very fond of its Master.

Its appearance is different every single time and yet there are still some factors that never change; the blood-stained clothes, the skin that is gray and sickly and the lips; battered blue from the lack of oxygen.

Death has no mortal form, it wears bodies like one would a t-shirt.

What surprises Hani the most is that Death actually possesses a sense of humor (in the grotesque, completely inappropriate sort of way).

Mitsukuni knows that he should feel at least some tremor of fear as he gazes into those discolored eyes, feel dread when Death smiles at him or gives him a compliment (Death is not on his doorstep, but it does sit across from him and share his table).

But, the truth is, Hani finds himself actually enjoying Death.

(today's body is that of a girl, no older than fifteen, with dried blood on the corner of her forehead and a few holes in the white blouse of what used to be her school uniform).

"Mitsukuni-kun…" It is said childishly (but Death is very childish in it's on way, even if sometimes the words that come out are strangely wise and haunting). "You're still here."

The tiny blonde man-child smiles at the apparition, bright and cheerful.

It's the middle of the afternoon and customers are sprawled everywhere, some on giant white comforters (Harry favours the colour white, white walls and white furniture) and some typing away, students and business men alike, with their third coffee-refill in barely an hour.

Harry sends a curious look over his shoulders as he serves pieces of cake and pastries, fresh warm coffee and house blend teas in white cutlery.

"Like always." The former host answers easily.

Death's smile is coy, a bit more of like a smirk. It takes a seat at his table – it's the closest one to the cash register and also the closest to Harry.

If people realize that there's something awfully wrong about the teenage girl who is draped in torn clothes and looks like she just went through, well, _death_ – no one comments on it.

But Mitsukuni's pretty sure the only ones who can actually notice Death are Harry and him.

Harry uses his powers to bake cakes and pies and brew coffee. Oven doors open and close without anyone touching them, batter is mixed by floating whisks and pans and bowls move on their own.

"It's such a waste." Death comments, blue lips turned into a pout. "My Master can transcend time and space and yet he chooses to bake cakes."

Harry tries to explain to him the whole multiple timelines bit, about how every choice leads to a different outcome and every outcome is catalogued, that Harry can access all of them without threatening alterations, that time does not actually apply to Death or it's Master.

Honestly, Mitsukuni does not care how or why Harry is here or why he decided to open a shop near the university he frequents as long as he remains (he's simple and stuffed full of cake and Death has an odd sense of humor and Hani is in love, love, _love_ ).

"Cakes are nice." Harry comments, appearing in front them with two plates. The Master of Death makes his own special brand of cheesecake with a strawberry and mint coulis that explodes in your mouth.

Huni nods his head in agreement as the green-eyed boy sets the cake on the table (there's flour at the corner of Harry glasses and on some strands of hair, a few coffee stains on his apron).

Death rolls pretty, dead eyes at them both and stabs a fork into the cake, watching as red, strawberry flavored liquid stains the utensil, tainting silver with the faint scent of mint and licks it.

It's almost disturbing – _almost_.

Harry sends a smile towards him, cheeks flushed and green eyes sparkling and Hani knows with certainty that even if the world was burning in front of him, bodies writhing in pain and Death casually laughing through it all right next to him, if Harry was there – Hani would not care.

He's so enraptured by Harry that he doesn't notice the way Death smiles indulgently, fork tapping against oxygen deprived lips slowly and the mischievous glint in its eyes (as if planning something that will be fun – but fun for Death isn't exactly the typical type of fun).

.

.

It's only a matter of time, really.

Hani expects it (he may look sweet and cute and innocent and he may lie to himself, play that role very well even if he could bring armies to their knees and make them beg for mercy).

If he had a choice, he would hide Harry away forever or at least for as long as the baker would permit it (forever, for the Master of Death literally means forever, especially when it comes to Harry since he's technically, already _dead_ ).

Mitsukuni's favourite moments are the ones where it's just him and Harry – in the Master of Death's apartment which is conveniently situated on top of the shop – warm, flushed skin pressed on cool sheets, Harry's lips parted, sound halfway between a moan and a plead.

(Mitsukuni may look like a twelve-year-old, but that doesn't mean he has the mentality of one and there is something truly enjoyable about the way Harry arches underneath him and runs worn fingers on his skin).

It's been almost two months and Hani has already claimed his place in the Master of Death's apartment – Harry doesn't seem to mind, just hums under his breath and bakes fresh, sweet bread in the morning with a smile on his face and his glasses propped on his head.

So, really, it's only a matter of time before his makeshift family of hosts figure out that something is keeping him away from them. Tamaki, for all his air headedness, has always been insightful when it comes to other people's business. And there's Kyoya, who would just agree to anything Tamaki wants as long as it doesn't cost too much.

Haruhi, bless her heart, doesn't seem remotely interested in what makes him happy as long as he's, well, you know, happy and the twins send each other mischievous glances, as if having a private conversation without the need to even say it out loud (Hani wouldn't be surprised if that were the case).

Takashi doesn't come out and say that he's curious. No, that would be dreadfully out of character, but he does allow himself to be pulled into whatever plan Tamaki conjures up so easily that it shows his interest.

When the entirety of the hosts pile into Harry's shop one lazy afternoon, Mitsukuni thinks that this isn't so bad. It's not like Harry advertises his 'Master of Death' title and, really, on the outside, he looks just like any other twenty-something-year-old working at a bakery.

(the apron around his waist and the flour in his hair and that soft smile that greets every customer only reinforces the idea – who would look and guess that this boy is actually the master of the universe).

"Any close friend of Hunny-Senpai is a friend of ours." Tamaki says, exuberant and loud, reaching to clasp Harry's left hand in his own and press a kiss on it.

Hani moves fast and smiles when Tamaki sends him a surprised look.

"Don't do that, Tama-chan." The tinier and older blond says sweetly (that possessive streak is very much present and while he doesn't mind sharing Harry's attention with his fellow schoolmates, he draws the line at flirting).

"It's nice to meet you, Suou-san." Harry adds softly. "Would you, um, like some cake?" The dark-haired youth brushes a strand of hair behind his ear. His tone is warm, welcoming (he's used to customers, after all).

Tamaki recovers quickly and nods his head feverishly, his attention back onto the baker.

Haruhi's eyes run back and forth on the cake display, that same glazed look she wears when thinking about food. When Tamaki is occupied by a piece of strawberry shortcake, humming loudly and trying to get Kyoya to try a piece, the Master of Death turns to the only girl of the host club and smiles.

"Would you like to try them? I have a few samples if you can't decide." Haruhi's lips part and she blinks.

"Can I really?" She bats her eyelashes and Harry nods his head (two out of five, but not that Hani is surprised Haruhi takes a liking to Harry. He's someone she would get along with, hard working and tame).

"How about we share a plate, Haruhi?" The twins chorus, sending identical smiles towards the brown-haired girl. Harry blinks at them, at their sudden appearance next to Haruhi (they do move fast when it comes to her).

"I don't want to share." Haruhi grumbles out, trying to untangle herself from the limbs holding onto her.

"No, Tamaki, I do not want a strawberry." Kyoya delivers flatly, pushing sleek black glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Hani turns to Takashi who stands stoically next to him.

"Ne, Takashi, you want some coffee?" His cousin grunts out something that Mitsukuni interprets as a yes and nods his head cutely, eyes sparkling.

"But Kyoya, it's delicious." Tamaki exclaims loudly, pointing his fork at his best friend. "We'll definitely order from here!" The youngest Ootori rolls his eyes, but probably makes a mental note anyways.

"Potter-san, can I also try to praline crunch?" Haruhi says, wide eyed at the beautiful slice of cake protected by a thick glass.

"Oh, it's Harry, just Harry." The green-eyed boy says with a smile. "The praline crunch is especially good with earl gray tea; would you like some?" Haruhi nods her head furiously as Harry piles on yet another plate of cake on the tray.

Hani wonders if the girl is trying to compete with him and while Haruhi is known to be able to eat very large amounts, the lobster incident should have thought her how to pace herself.

"Oi, Haruhi…" Hikaru starts out.

"Leave some for the rest of us." Kaoru finishes for his twin brother.

"You two devils! Leave my daughter alone." To prove his point, Tamaki wraps his arms around Haruhi, shoving the girl's head in his chest protectively.

Harry turns towards Kyoya with a raised eyebrow.

"Daughter?" Kyoya nods, turning disinterested eyes towards the twins and Tamaki who are making a scene (customers turn around to look at them, but that hardly matters since it always happened). Harry finally turns towards him and smiles. "Want some coffee?"

Hani nods his head, climbing his way on Takashi's shoulder as Harry busies himself with brewing coffee and sampling more cakes for Haruhi, the girl with a dazed expression on her face as Hani explains to his cousin which cakes are the less sweet.

All in all, it's a rather tame day for the host club, especially if you compare it with their usual shenanigans.

Well, at least until Mitsukuni declares that Harry is his boyfriend very loudly, between two bites of cake (Harry's cheeks turn scarlet red and, well, Hani can't bring himself to feel sorry).

* * *

 **a/n: Honestly, I have _no idea_ what I'm doing with story. So many people wanted, you know, more chapters and well, I aim to please, so, here it is. I'm still trying to come up with some semblance of a plot, so, if anyone has any ideas I would love to heart them. This story is, well, much more popular than I expected. Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited and reviewed and just read it. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you want more and thanks for reading!**


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